


The Price

by tenaya



Series: Be Careful What You Ask For [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, First Time, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenaya/pseuds/tenaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On one hand he felt like he needed to find out more about Finch and his sources, but on the other hand he was still angry about the recording, about hearing Jessica’s name again.  Maybe he’d just make his price so high the smug little bastard would just walk away and John’d have a little fun at the same time.</p><p>“All right.  I could help but you’ll have to meet my price.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price

John Reese woke up to the ringing of a telephone.  He struggled to reach the phone but his left hand was zip tied to the bed’s headboard.  Finally, he grabbed it and brought the handset to his ear.

“You need to understand, Mr. Reese.  The information I have is incomplete but never wrong.  You need to know what it would be like to be forced to listen to someone get murdered and not be able to do anything about it.”

The chilling voice belonged to that rich little stalker guy from the day before.  Forced to listen to someone get murdered?  Oh, that did not sound good at all.  What the hell was he planning?  John jerked hard at his restrained hand.

A shrill scream pierced the air, desperate and terrified.  Sounds of a struggle and breaking furniture came from behind the door of the hotel room.  John’s adrenaline surge cut through the post alcohol binge haze and he fought himself free, breaking a mirror and using a shard to cut the zip tie from around his wrist.  He burst through the locked door and skidded sprawling into the room.   A reel to reel tape recorder sat on a desk, spinning the frenzied screams through a loudspeaker.

Finch sat quietly, unruffled by the sounds of the dying woman.  “Too late. This recording is three years old.  A woman murdered in this room by her husband.  For the insurance.”  Finch flashed an old newspaper at him.  “You were too late for her, just like you were too late for your friend, Jessica.  You were half way around the world when she was killed.”

John saw red at the accusation and a towering rage threw him forward.  He had his arm against Finch’s throat, felt his frailness as he forced Finch against the wall, wanting nothing more than to stop the accusing words assailing him. These were secrets known only to him.  “What the hell do you know about it?!”

Finch spoke quickly, frantically but he didn’t resist. “It’s the truth.  You left the government because they lied to you.  I never will.  I think all you ever wanted to do was protect people.”  He would never lie to him?  This whole set up was lie, a damn manipulation. And Finch had brought Jessica into this.  He should not be able to know about Jessica or that John was in Ordos at that time. Bringing up her death was as vicious a sucker punch as Reese had ever received.   He forced himself back and turned away; he needed to get his control back.  He sat down and stared at the reel to reel, swallowing his anger.

“That’s a wire tap recording.  NSA or FISA. Government.   And you’re not government.”

Finch pushed away from the wall.  “No, I’m not.”  He limped painfully over to a chair and dropped in to it.  “I guess you could call me a concerned third party. 

“You couldn’t have saved this woman, or your friend…but you could have if you’d known in time.  And that’s the other thing I’m offering you, a chance to be there in time.”  Finch pulled a photo of Diane Hansen out of his pocket and handed it to Reese.  “It’s not too late for her.  You could help me stop what’s about to happen.  The question is will you?”

Reese stared at the photo.  Finch possessed a government wire tape and classified information about John.  If he knew about Ordos, he knew John was a CIA killer.  He had targeted John and pursued him determinedly, shamelessly using Jessica’s death to manipulate John.  He looked up and considered Finch and his obvious desire to gain control over him, to use John’s skills to track and spy on whoever he felt deserved it.  A short, rich man who had probably obsessively worked at getting great wealth and power and now wanted more, wanted to run a CIA assassin through hoops and have life and death power over people to validate his importance and to have even more power. 

On one hand he felt like he needed to find out more about Finch and his sources, but on the other hand he was still angry about the recording, about hearing Jessica’s name again.  Maybe he’d just make his price so high the smug little bastard would just walk away and John’d have a little fun at the same time.

“All right.  I could help but you’ll have to meet my price.”

“Name it, Mr. Reese,” he said eagerly.

John leaned forward.  “I’ll require frequent sex.”

Finch sat back in his chair.  “I…had not anticipated this request.  I imagine I can make some arrangements with an escort service of your liking.”

“No.  The sex will be with you.  Whenever I request it, however I request it.”

Finch swallowed hard.  “Is this some sort of jest?”

“No.  It’s a question of trust and worth.  I need to trust you and I since I’ll be risking my life, I need for you to risk something of yours that you value just as highly.”  John tossed the photo back onto the table between them.

Finch stared at the photo for a long time, which surprised John.  He figured there would be an attempt to bargain then indignant anger and threats before Finch stormed out.  Finch continued to sit quietly before he sighed and looked up, squaring his shoulders. 

“Time is of the essence.  I agree.”

John leaned back in his chair, surprised.  He had not expected this man to submit to him, to give over control; that did not fit in with his assessment.  He studied the small man.  Bespoke suit, manicured hands, well groomed.  Educated and polite.  Some sort of neck and back injury.  Thick corrective lenses and an odd choice in hairstyles.

Finch grew nervous under his stare.  “I should warn you I’m not very experienced with what you might request.”

John decided to rattle the cage.  “You mean blow jobs?  Penetrative sex?”  He wondered if the man was wearing lacy women’s panties beneath his suit.  People hid all manner of kinks beneath their clothing and it wouldn’t be the first time John discovered women’s underwear under a power suit—you can find out a lot about a person as you prep their body for disposal.

Finch paled.  “Both.”

Now John felt a twinge of guilt.  He anticipated a battle for control and taking an arrogant man down a peg, not cornering someone into sex.  Maybe if he pushed harder the man would refuse and flee.  He slapped his hands on his knees and nodded towards the bed behind Finch.  “Let’s get started.  I can show you what I like.”

Finch turned his whole torso until he could see the bed.  “Oh.”

“You know you can still change your mind.  And even if you don’t, you have the right to say no at any time.  The trust will need to go both ways.” John kept his tone business-like, the same as if he was suggesting Finch send back a meal that displeased him.

Finch stood and smoothed down his jacket before he limped over to the bed.  He turned to face John, uncertain as to what was expected of him.

John stood and approached.  He placed his hands on the man’s chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart.  Was Finch excited or terrified?  He searched his face for clues.  All he saw was resolve.  John slid his hand up onto Finch’s shoulder and applied gentle pressure, urging him down.  Finch sat, stiffly, his eyes now at the level of John’s crotch.  His face flushed and he looked away, flustered and uncomfortable. 

Suddenly it wasn’t that fun of a game anymore.   Finch hadn’t pushed to keep control and had given John permission to have sex with him just to secure John’s word that he would work the case.  It could be an act.  John didn’t know enough about Finch to judge.  All he knew was he set up this scene to push John’s buttons and played hard ball to pressure John into compliance.  John could walk out; ending the deal but Finch had proven how important this was to him.  John decided to proceed, gather more information.  He forced his anger down along with his desire to push back harder than he’d just been pushed. 

He knelt in front of Finch and placed his hands on his inner thighs.  The firm strokes pushed Finch’s legs wider apart and John inched closer staring up into Finch’s wide eyes. “Just relax.”

“Should I disrobe?”

“Somewhat.”  John swiftly undid belt, buttons and zippers, spreading wide the fine wool fabric, revealing dark grey silk boxers beneath.  He pushed the soft fabric back, exposing and surrounding Finch’s genitals.  The cock was flaccid. 

John looked up.  “Are you sure this is what you want, Finch?  Something tells me your heart isn’t in this.”

“Mr. Reese, this is all very sudden.  I’m not even convinced that this, _this_ ,” his hands flared around his lap, “isn’t some lesson in humiliation.  You could just decline my offer and save us both from what promises to be an embarrassing and frustrating…nonevent!” 

So the little guy did have a temper.  John could work with that.  “What did you think would happen?”

Finch rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “I imagined you would just…pounce upon me.  That my cooperation would not be needed.”

John sat back on his heels.  “You thought I’d push you down and fuck you.  That’s rape, Finch.  You agreed to be raped in order to hire me to do a surveillance job?”

Finch was stunned.  “I…I hadn’t thought of it like that.  I did agree to your terms, Mr. Reese.  I am prepared to do whatever is necessary.  In spite of your bizarre demand, I believe you are the right man for this job.”

Finch was either an incredibly self-sacrificing, determined martyr or a very good actor still yanking on John’s chain.  Events so far weighed in heavily on the side of the later.  He hated being played.  The CIA had played him up to the moment his partner shot him to clean up a loose end of an agent who finally knew too much.  He wasn’t going to get played again.  What to do?

“This is about trust, therefore it needs to be consensual.  You have the right to say no. “

“But if I do, you won’t work for me. You made that plain.”

“That’s where the trust comes in. You’re obviously a rich man.  No amount of money will prove to me that your intentions aren’t that of a bored, little man seeking power over others. The payment needs to personally cost you something.”

Finch pressed his lips together in annoyance.

“You will need to show a little more enthusiasm,” John said with a glance at Finch’s lap.

“I’m not used to being handled this way.  I feel no…passion.”

John raised an eyebrow.  He was intrigued.  What would this fussy little man look like in the throes of passion?  “Passion.  Well, let’s see what we can do.”  He knew how to seduce and had a wide array of techniques at his disposal.  He leaned close and sucked the tip of Finch’s cock in his mouth, letting his tongue play warmly, wetly over the head. 

Finch jumped at the contact.  “I don’t have a condom!”

John let the head drop out and rubbed his cheek, rough with the start of stubble, over the length of Finch’s cock.  Finch jumped again. 

“Are you clean?”  John slid his hands up the thighs again until he cupped the ball sack.  He played his lips and tongue over the soft tissue, feeling the skin tighten.  Now he was getting somewhere.

“Yes, but—“

“No buts.  That’s all I need to know for now.”  He engulfed Finch’s cock again, sucking it deeper, feeling the heat of the blood as the organ started to grow.  He could see Finch’s fingers clench on his own thigh.  John slid his hand over Finch’s, loosening the fingers until he was holding the hand, using his thumb to caress the palm.  Finch groaned, his hips contracting briefly.  John guided Finch’s hand onto John’s head, covering it, encouraging the fingers to rub at his scalp.  Finch brought his other hand onto John’s head, stroking the hair in synch with John as he tongued and sucked at Finch’s cock. 

John expertly worked him, not too fast, not too slow, bringing him inevitably to completion, careful not to use his teeth or push the pleasure over the line into pain.  He knew exactly the moment when Finch was about to come; he didn’t need Finch jerking his hands away from John’s head or the stuttered warning, “I’m gonna, I’m—“ before his mouth was full of thick, salty fluid.  The taste wasn’t too bad; Finch must have a decent diet.  Instead of spitting it out like he’d planned, he swallowed.  Let Finch try to figure that one out.

He stood and stared down at Finch.  The man looked stunned and absolutely ravished: breathing hard, his eyes dark, his face flushed, his dark red cock still thick and long, lying sated on the silk boxers, glistening with John’s saliva.  He had an urge to lean forward and kiss Finch, but regretfully decided against.  That might be too much for a first time.  His own cock twitched in interest at the idea though.

“Passion is a good look on you, Finch.  Until next time.”  He started to turn but Finch stopped him. 

“Wait!”  His hand dove shakily into his jacket pocket and fished out a smart phone.  “So we can keep in contact,” he said as he offered the device to John.

John bent over to take the phone, the smell of expensive cologne wafting up.  Why had he not noticed that before?  He straightened.  “I’ll call you when I have something,” John said as he walked out of the room. 

He would find out what he could about Diane Hansen and when the case was finished, he would find Finch again.  He would know then by the man’s actions if he was being played or not.  If he wasn’t prepared to honor their deal, there would be repercussions.  And if Finch did come through with the payment, well, the terms were however John wanted him.  That would bear some consideration.

John caught sight of his reflection in the remains of the mirror he’d broken upon awakening.   His eyes were intent and focused, the smile wolfish, predatory.  Suddenly, he had a lot to look forward to: a job, a purpose and the mystery that is his employer.

END

**Author's Note:**

> This story didn't quite go where I thought it would. I've warned for rape for those with issues, but I feel the story really is more dub-con. Unbetaed. It's possible there could be a sequel.


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